


Somewhere on the Space-time Continuum

by chanderson



Series: Young, Scrappy, and Hungry [20]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, Headaches & Migraines, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Older Man/Younger Man, Politics, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-12
Updated: 2017-08-12
Packaged: 2018-12-14 13:56:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11784573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chanderson/pseuds/chanderson
Summary: The Alex from Ten Years Ago would’ve laughed if you told him he’d be married to the goddamn President of the United States. He would’ve told you to fuck off if you explained that, one day, he would be soothing his sick husband at four in the morning. Alex never used to be this caring, this domestic.The change happened so gradually that he didn’t even notice it. He just woke up one morning and was a different person. A better person.





	Somewhere on the Space-time Continuum

**Author's Note:**

> Ok I'm at a stand still on the wedding fic for some reason?? But I miss this series SO MUCH, so I just wrote this little oneshot a few months after the wedding. 
> 
> I'll get my shit together on the wedding fic I SWEAR. But for now, I hope this will tide y'all over!
> 
> There's a little bit of politics hidden in here. Blink and you'll miss it lmao.

“Mr. Hamilton—wait!” 

Alex glances warily at the baby-faced kid who grabs his sleeve and tugs him to a halt. He’s young, an intern, maybe? Though interns don't normally get invited to charity events at the White House. The kid is still holding onto Alex’s sleeve, and he sees the Secret Service tense out of the corner of his eye. He gives them a quick shake of his head and turns to get a proper look at the guy in his ill-fitting, off-the-rack tux. Alex smiles pleasantly and the kid finally lets go of his sleeve.

“Of course,” Alex says smoothly. “What can I do for you…”

“Payne Todd.” Alex nods and Payne licks his lips. “I just, uh, I’m an aide to Congressman Madison, and I just wanted to say that you and the president are very inspirational. The congressman invited me here tonight because he knows how much—well, how much I appreciate you and your husband.” Payne smiles a little shyly, ducks his head, and shuffles his weight back-and-forth. Alex smiles and squeezes Payne’s shoulder. 

“Thank you Payne. That means a lot.” Then, because Alex is a little tipsy and feeling generous, he digs his business card holder out of his pocket. “Here, take one of these and give me a call sometime.” Alex pops the case open and hands one of the cards to Payne. “I’d love to have you over for a tour of the West Wing.” Alex winks, inwardly grinning at the awestruck look Payne gives him.

“Okay, um, alright. Wow. Thank you so much.” Payne laughs nervously and nods his head like a bobblehead. “Thank you,” he repeats, obviously trying desperately to keep a lunatic grin off his face. Alex smiles and nods. 

“No problem. See you later.” 

He slides in between two couples standing around chatting, relishing in the way they stumble back out of his way. Being the quasi-first gentleman earns you a shit ton of brownie points around here. Alex has never felt so… _respected, revered, feared…_ a whole host of words readily pop into his mind.

Turns out that being married to the President of the United States is even better than Alex thought it would be. 

He’s sick and tired of being the loud-mouth, upstart immigrant who’s expected to learn his place. People look up to him now, and he’s not above enjoying that. Not above it at all. 

A waiter with a silver tray full of delicate champagne flutes walks by and Alex plucks one off the tray on his way through the crowd. He scans the mass of men in jet back tuxes and women in floor-length ballgowns for George, finally finding him standing off to the side by himself. He’s sipping, but not really drinking, what looks like a vodka tonic. 

Alex pushes through the crowd, murmuring ‘excuse me’ about a thousand times, easily dodging the power-hungry politicians keen on getting an audience with him. Everyone on this side of the Potomac seems to think that, if they whisper something in Alex’s ear, he’ll whisper it to George at night.

It’s kind of amusing, actually. 

After side-stepping one last fat cat lobbyist, Alex walks up and stands on his tip-toes to kiss George’s cheek. George snaps his head up and blinks rapidly, a dazed look on his face. Alex frowns and rubs George’s back. 

“Hey, everything okay baby?” Now that Alex gets a good look at him, George doesn’t look well. His eyes are glassy and unfocused and his skin has an odd, grayish tint. George’s eyes dart back and forth with barely masked panic and Alex steps closer to him, anxiety fluttering in his stomach. “George, look at me. What’s wrong?” George blinks, wincing when the band starts up a new song. 

“Nothing,” George says softly. The hand holding his drink is shaking. 

“George,” Alex says firmly, noticing the way he’s flinching back from the light. “Do you think you’ve got a migraine coming on?” 

“No—”

“So your vision is completely normal?” Alex cuts him off. “Your head doesn’t hurt at all?” George huffs, annoyed, and sets his drink down. 

“Alexander—”

“Don’t ‘Alexander’ me,” Alex says firmly. “George, love, if you’re having a migraine then we need to go upstairs before it gets worse. It’s too loud down here.” George opens his mouth to argue and Alex glares at him. “Yes, ‘we.’ I’m not letting you go upstairs and lock yourself away while you’re sick. Come on. No one will miss us.” Alex sets his drink down and holds his hand out for George. 

He takes Alex’s outstretched hand without any further arguing, letting Alex know just how bad he must really be feeling. He stumbles, and Alex reaches out to steady him. “You’re okay,” he soothes. “We’ll be upstairs soon.” 

Alex navigates their way through the crowd, wincing every time someone stops them to talk. He can tell that George is starting to feel worse—can see it in his face—so he starts being a little less polite as he pushes through the crowd. 

He ushers George toward the door, nodding at Tallmadge. 

“We’re going to the Residence,” Alex says, his voice pitched low. “Can you tell everyone to stay quiet in the Residence. No noise, no lights, and no bothering the president.” Tallmadge nods and Alex nudges George forward. “Okay George,” he whispers once they’re through the East Room’s door. “We’ll be there soon. Just give me a little bit more, alright? You just gotta help me out a little.” 

Alex is relieved to find that their bedroom door is open and waiting for them with the lights turned off already. As soon as they’re inside, George pulls out of Alex’s grasp and stumbles to the bathroom, wincing the entire time. He doesn’t even bother to run the shower to cover up the sound of vomiting anymore, which, Alex figures, is probably a good thing. They’ve been together long enough to be past all that. 

He doesn’t quite know what to do with himself, so he flutters around, anxiously cleaning the room up a little and calling down to the kitchen for some Gatorade and almonds. George always likes eating almonds after a migraine. Alex politely asks them to hurry and _be quiet_. He’s tempted to tape a sign to the door. Better safe than sorry. 

Except then George is calling out for him— _“Alexander”_ —and Alex hurries to the bathroom. Hovers in the doorway, squinting in the dim light. George is slumped over in front of the toilet with his forehead resting against the seat. His ashen skin is shiny with sweat. “Hey baby,” Alex breathes, trying to keep his voice as quiet as possible. 

“Can you get my medicine?” George shudders and lifts a shaky hand to wipe sweat out of his eyes. “I don’t know if I can get up and find it.”

“Of course,” Alex says quickly. “I’ve got you.” He opens the medicine cabinet and quietly pushes aside various orange bottles until he finds George’s medicine in the back. He carefully taps one out and fills a glass with water. “Okay sweetheart, here you go.” Alex hands George the pill and helps him take a sip of water. He shudders again, but the pill stays down. Alex says a silent prayer and stands back to give George some space. 

George gets up and crawls into bed soon after, and Alex goes to the private study to get some work done. He tries desperately to focus on the report he’s putting together, but his mind inevitably begins to wander to George and how _sick_ he looked. Alex knows that the migraines aren’t really anything to worry about. They’re mostly harmless, but Alex still hates having to see George looking so sick. So defenseless. They strike whenever, usually at incredibly inopportune times. Alex still remembers how awful it was when George had a migraine come on during treaty negotiations in Peru. He had to give a speech on South American cooperation and barely made it through without vomiting. Alex had ached for him that day, wished he could take away some of his pain. It’s unfair. 

But George always manages—always makes it through—so it’s fine. It’s always fine. 

Alex drops his head back down to the half-finished report in front of him. He’s supposed to be compiling research on the possible economic impacts of constructing hydroelectric dams in Myanmar. The United States is currently in talks with China and Myanmar, hoping to forge a closer alliance between the two countries, as well as jumpstart Myanmar’s struggling economy. A combined workforce of Myanmars and Chinese workers would aid both countries’ workforce development, as well as help Myanmar invest in clean water for its people. It’s a win-win situation, in Alex’s opinion. Convincing the Chinese of that is going to be a tough bargain, but Alex is sure they can do it. 

He starts his MacBook up and scours past State Department reports. One sticks out in particular—makes Alex cringe in sympathy— _Hydroelectric Power’s Effects on Myanmar’s Rural Class: Displacement by the Thousands_. 

Modernization will always come with a costly price tag. Someone will always lose. Crack a few eggs to make an omelet. Sacrifice for the greater good. 

It’s a constant conundrum. 

Alex sets up a secure video call with Deputy Secretary Jay to hash out some of the finer points, weighing their options. The treaty negotiations are planned for a few months from now, and George is going to expect some solid information—

_George_. 

Anxiety coils in Alex’s gut as his mind goes back to George. Part of him wants to go check on George. Another part is telling him to sit his ass right here and calm down. Just focus on work, Hamilton. Get your shit together. 

“I mean, obviously I’m biased because I’m a globalization, modernization guy,” Jay says, interrupting Alex’s snowballing thoughts, “but I really do think this is going to be a good deal. The Boss Man thinks so too.” 

“Randolph is one hundred percent on board? Because we’re going to need his full support,” Alex says, blinking. He’s fucking exhausted, checks the time and finds that it’s almost midnight. Jay nods and thoughtfully chews on the end of his pen. 

“Yeah. He’s definitely behind the deal. I think he’s got a meeting with the president and Lafayette tomorrow.” Alex nods and drums his fingers on the desk. 

“He does. I’m probably going to drop in on it.” Alex stretches his arms above his head and heaves a sigh. He glances down at his phone, checking for a notification from George. Just in case. 

“Alright, well, my wife is pestering for me to get to sleep,” Jay says after a beat of silence. “I’ll talk to you later, Hamilton.” The screen minimizes and Jay’s face is gone. Alex rubs his eyes and idly spins in his chair. He tries to read more of the State Department report, but his eyes keep glazing over. 

After he zones out in the middle of the same paragraph for a fourth time, he shuts his laptop in disgust and groans. 

“Fuck this,” he mutters to the empty room. Argos looks up from his spot curled up under the desk and whines. Alex chuckles and reaches down to scratch his head. “Sorry, boy. Go back to sleep.” 

When Alex’s personal cellphone rings, he startles and clumsily picks it up, his heart thudding hard in his chest when he sees George’s name. “Hey baby,” he breathes. “What’s wrong?”

He sounds like a mess. 

George swallows, the sound audible over the phone. “I threw up again,” he says so quietly that Alex can barely hear him. “And I don’t think I can get back to bed.” George makes a frustrated groaning sound. “Sorry. This is so disgusting and annoying.”

“It’s fine. I’ll be right there.” Alex hops up and practically sprints to the bedroom. He shoves the bathroom door open and winces when he sees George huddled over the toilet, his shoulders shaking. “George, hey. I’m here,” Alex whispers, his voice choked. He crouches down next to George and hesitates. “Can I touch you?” 

“I don’t really have another choice,” George says dully. 

Alex carefully helps George back to bed, his chest aching with every little hiss of pain George lets out. He looks awful—lips completely pale; skin clammy, gray, and shiny with sweat—and Alex grinds his teeth in frustration. He hates being so useless. 

Once George is back in bed, Alex agitatedly shifts his weight back and forth. 

“Are you okay? Can I—can I stay?” George gives him a tiny nod and Alex breathes a sigh of relief. He strips down and quietly climbs into bed. George tentatively wraps his arms around Alex, holding him tightly. It’s the only way he can stand to be touched. Alex settles down carefully. “I love you. So much.” 

“Love you too,” George slurs tiredly. 

\---

Alex wakes up disoriented and groggy a few minutes—hours?—later. He blinks in the darkness and blindly gropes around for his phone, punching the home button once he finds it. He winces as his eyes adjust to the brightness. It’s a little after four in the morning. He rolls back over to look at George and frowns when he sees him curled up clutching a pillow to his chest. 

“George?” he whispers. George blinks—he’s awake—and nods. Alex sits up and balls his fists in his lap. “Are you still in pain?” George gives him a tiny nod. “Is it any better than earlier?” George shrugs with one shoulder and closes his eyes. He’s probably dizzy. Alex sighs and reaches over to gently graze his fingers over George’s knuckles. “I’m so sorry,” he says lamely. “I wish I could make it better.” 

“Me too,” George says, his voice cracking from lack of use. Alex immediately hops up and brings George a glass of water. 

“Here, sit up and drink some of this. You need to stay hydrated.” 

George sits up and manages a few tiny sips of the water before he shakes his head and slides back down. Alex sighs. He doesn’t know if he can settle back down and sleep, so he gets up, freezing when George reaches out and grabs his wrist, holding him in place. 

“Please don't leave,” he chokes. Alex’s face softens and he has to swallow past a sudden lump in his throat.

“Okay sweetie. I’m right here.” He settles back down and lets George hold him again, the vulnerability in George’s voice on replay in his head. 

Alex never thought he would be this person, sick with worry over his _husband_. They’ve been married for a few months now and it still catches him off guard whenever he glances down at the ring on his finger. He feels lightheaded, _giddy_ , whenever he rubs his thumb over George’s wedding ring when they're holding hands. He’s married and in love and somehow, that’s okay. 

The Alex from Ten Years Ago would’ve laughed if you told him he’d be married to the goddamn President of the United States. He would’ve told you to fuck off if you explained that, one day, he would be soothing his sick husband at four in the morning. Alex never used to be this caring, this domestic. 

The change happened so gradually that he didn’t even notice it. He just woke up one morning and was a different person. A better person.

George, he noticed, has changed too. Even in just the past three months since the wedding. 

He doesn’t talk to Martha anymore. Still wears her ring around his neck, but Alex never catches him touching it anymore—doesn’t notice him getting that far away, sad look on his face. 

They’re married and everything is _good_. They’re happy. George is happy. 

Alex never thought they would get here. 

Beside him, George makes a little sick, whimpering noise, and Alex very gently squeezes the hand he has resting on Alex’s stomach, short and comforting. Just letting George know that he’s here. 

Alex rubs his finger over George’s smooth wedding band and smiles. 

\---

He wakes up the next morning to the sound of the alarm blaring in his ear. He immediately sits up and turns it off, glancing over at George. His eyes are glazed over and glassy, slitted against the light seeping in from the curtains. Alex smooths a hesitant hand over his sweaty brow. "How’re you feeling?” he whispers. George shrugs and shakily sits up. 

“Marginally better.” He twists the blanket in his hands and stares at his lap. “Thanks. Sorry for ruining your night.” Alex narrows his eyes and clucks his tongue disapprovingly.

“You have nothing to apologize for. It’s not like you can help it. Don’t ever apologize, okay? You know I’ll always be here for you.” Alex squeezes George’s knee. “I love you so much.” 

“I love you too. Thank you, Alex.” George heaves a sigh and passes a shaky hand over his face. “I need to get ready for work.” Alex immediately opens his mouth to argue, but George shakes his head firmly. “I have to go in today. The hydroelectric treaty is too important.” 

“Are you sure you’re feeling up to it, though? Are you still nauseous? I know how bad that can get.” 

“It’s nothing I can’t handle,” George says firmly, leaving no room for argument. Alex heaves a resigned sigh and nods. 

“Okay, but please promise me that you’ll go back to bed if you start feeling really bad.” George rolls his eyes but smiles, nodding. 

“Fair enough. Now, will you come shower with me?” 

They get in the shower together, and Alex almost immediately pops a boner, apologizes profusely, embarrassed. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry. Just ignore it. I’ve been horny the past few days,” he says, flustered. “It’s fine.” 

George gives him a sympathetic look and a sweet kiss on the lips. 

Then they’re off to work, rushing down to the Oval Office. George is too nauseous to eat any breakfast, but Alex does force him to drink some water and bring a Gatorade downstairs with him. 

Alex doesn’t see George for most of the day. He locks himself in his office, puts on his headphones, and works on banging out the rest of the report. He wants to do something for George, and if he can’t make him feel better physically, then the least he can do is finish his work early.

But a little after lunchtime, George is calling his personal cellphone and telling him that he’s feeling too bad to keep working, lets him know that Vice President Schuyler is taking over for the rest of the day. 

Alex quickly informs Lafayette that he’s going to check on the president and hustles his ass to the Residence, passes Harriet on his way up and gives her a quick smile. 

He finds George curled up in bed and approaches him slowly. “Hey,” Alex whispers. “I’m sorry you’re feeling so bad.” George blinks and shrugs. 

“It’s okay.” He swallows. “Can you come hold me?” 

“Of course.” Alex toes his shoes off, carefully hangs his suit up, and crawls into bed. He wraps his arms around George and holds him close, resting his cheek against his warm back. His skin smells like his cologne and body wash, sharp and spicy. Comforting. 

Alex doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of this. 

Somewhere on the Space-time Continuum, the Alex from Ten Years Ago is blowing a willowy twink in some leaky bathroom at a bar that is most definitely not up to code. Maybe, on some level, Alex envies the freedom he used to have. The freedom to fuck and suck as he wanted, back before he even met John. 

But as George gets comfortable in Alex’s arms and makes a little, sleepy snuffling noise, Alex decides that the Alex from Ten Years Ago can go fuck himself, because, in this moment, there’s nowhere else he would rather be. 

**Author's Note:**

> :') I've missed my boys. 
> 
> Payne at the beginning is John Payne Todd, who is actually Madison's son but since he's with TJeffs and not married to Dolley, Payne is just an intern/possible eventual Staff Assistant. 
> 
> Also I leave D.C. in a week and I'm So Fucking Sad.
> 
> As always, comments are always appreciated!


End file.
